


On My Knees

by der_tanzer



Series: Protective Custody [25]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-15
Updated: 2010-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinlan is injured on the job and everything changes again, for better or worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On My Knees

It was almost five and Murray couldn’t stop glancing at the clock. He was chopping vegetables in Ted’s kitchen, wishing his lover would hurry up and get home. The electric skillet was hot but he hadn’t put the oil in yet and if he waited much longer it would scorch. He worked the knife with careful precision, his eyes moving constantly between the clock and the cutting board. Ted was supposed to be home by four-thirty on Fridays, and now it was two minutes past five. He dumped the vegetables into a bowl and set it aside, next to the bowl of diced chicken. The overhead lights reflected off the gold bracelet on his right arm and his eyes were drawn to it as he washed his hands.

Ted had given him the bracelet two months ago, not long after they returned from Steve’s wedding. It was a simple ID bracelet, heavy gold links with an oval plate that bore his name in neat script. Men had been wearing them for years and it attracted no attention. Only the two of them knew that Ted’s name was engraved on the back of the plate, a small secret against his skin. Murray had reciprocated in a way even more subtle, knowing they couldn’t risk matching. He gave Ted a silver St. Michael medal with MB engraved on the back. All cops carried St. Michael somewhere, even the non-Catholics who sneered at superstition, and the initials could have been a maker’s mark for all anyone else would know. But the two of them understood. They had staked their respective claims, whether it was ever announced or not.

At five-thirty, he turned off the skillet and put the bowls in the refrigerator. At six, he was sitting in Ted’s recliner, his hand hovering nervously over the phone while he fought to keep from picking it up. He wasn’t supposed to call Ted at work unless he was actually reporting a crime. Wanting to know when he’d be home for supper was not an acceptable excuse.

At six thirty-eight, a number that would forever be imprinted in his mind, the doorbell rang. He jumped and his hand closed over the cordless phone, his overstressed brain mistaking one sound for another. Then the bell rang again and he got up, walked halfway to the door, and stopped to reconsider. He probably wasn’t supposed to be here, and whoever was out there might know it.

“Come on, Murray. It’s just us,” came Nick’s voice from the other side. His heart took a giant leap and he flung the door open to see his two best friends standing on the steps.

“Guys? What’s going on? Ted isn’t home yet—guys?”

Their faces were scaring him—Nick biting his lip and Cody, just behind him, staring at the ground.

“Are you cooking something?” Nick asked, which only confused him further.

“I—no. I was, but…What’s going on, Nick? Did the boat sink?” It was the only thing he could think of that would bring them here with such sad expressions and strange questions. Nick turned to Cody, who nodded and eased through the doorway with a pat on Murray’s shoulder, headed for the kitchen.

“Nick…”

“We just got a call from Sergeant Roark. He’s at the hospital with Quinlan.”

“What?” Murray reached for the little table by the door, the one that held the key bowl and the day’s mail, which Murray had gathered up when he arrived, and leaned on it to keep from falling. Suddenly he was very dizzy. “ _Please_ , just tell me what’s going on.”

Cody came back and put his arm around Murray’s waist, lending him strength.

“Everything’s off in there,” he reported. “Have you got your keys, buddy?”

“What keys? You’re confusing me. Why is Ted at the hospital? And who’s Sergeant Roark?”

Nick grabbed Murray’s keys from the bowl on the little table and locked the door as Cody led Murray out of the house. The April sun was still warm, though shadows were gathering on the east-facing lawn. Murray took all that in without recognizing it, still needing an answer.

“Roark’s with the state police,” Nick said quietly. “Quinlan was working with them on a case and he got hurt. Roark didn’t tell me exactly what happened, just that Quinlan wanted him to call you. I guess he didn’t want to tell Roark where you were.”

“He didn’t want me to drive,” Murray said vaguely. Cody deposited him in the passenger seat of the Jimmy while Nick climbed in the back.

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” Cody agreed, going around to take his place behind the wheel.

“How bad is he hurt? Was he shot? Did Roark tell you _anything_?”

“He wasn’t shot,” Nick said quickly. “It was some kind of a fall.” He leaned forward and wrapped one arm around Murray’s bony shoulders, barely resisting the urge to kiss him on the head like a child.

“A fall? How bad? Did he hit his head?”

“I don’t know, buddy. He didn’t say.”

“It’s always something with us,” Murray whispered, too quietly even for Cody to hear. “Why is it always something?”

“I don’t know,” Nick repeated helplessly, and this time he did kiss Murray on the temple like a parent checking for fever. Cody didn’t have to hear the words to know what he was feeling and reached over to squeeze his knee. Murray gave him a small, grateful smile and then leaned forward, pulling out of Nick’s embrace. He didn’t want anyone else to touch him until he knew for sure that Ted was all right. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, and stared out the windshield the rest of the way to the hospital.

***

Sergeant Roark was in the waiting room, looking bored. Ted Quinlan was no friend of his, and all he cared about was getting out of here before his wife threw his own dinner in the trash. Not even Murray's obvious fear concerned him. He just told them what he knew, that Ted had put his foot through a rotted stair riser and screwed up his knee when he fell. But Roark had a mean streak and Murray's immediate relief touched him in a way that his worry had not. He roused himself to tell them in some detail of the unnatural angle at which Ted's knee had bent, and the frantic shrieks which had accompanied it. Murray tried to remember if he had ever heard Ted scream and found that he couldn't. It seemed to him that such an unlikely thing would stand out in his mind, either in fact or in absence, but he was drawing a total blank.

A moment later, Murray was sitting down and Sergeant Roark was gone. When he had left or what else was said, Murray would never know. He was still trying to imagine Ted acknowledging pain. Outside. In front of people. Nick and Cody were beside him, still looking as relieved as he’d felt a moment ago. He knew what they were thinking, that a sprained or dislocated knee was no big deal—painful but soon recovered from—and wondered if he should explain. Roark had no motive to lie, so Murray had to believe his description of the situation. And even if it he was exaggerating by as much as fifty percent, it was still very bad news.

“Hey, Boz,” Cody said quietly, nudging him with his elbow. “It’s okay, buddy. He’ll be okay.”

Murray just nodded without raising his eyes. Nick rubbed his shoulder gently as the silence stretched out from friendly to awkward. After a while, Cody went for coffee and Murray held his cup until it got cold. It was still untouched when Cody took it away again.

Another half-hour passed before a doctor appeared to tell him that Ted wanted to see him. He was still in the ER, cranky and belligerent even on morphine, and refusing to submit to treatment until he’d spoken to Murray.

“What kind of treatment?” was Murray’s first question. “What does he need?”

“He has options but he won’t decide. Everything we can do is basically long-term therapy, but he needs to decide which approach he wants to take so we can get started.”

“I see. Can you explain the options to me?”

“I really can’t. Confidentiality, you know. But I think Mr. Quinlan can explain as much as he needs to.”

They wound between curtained-off beds and came to a stop at the end of the long room where Ted lay, sighing in pain, but with as much privacy as they could give him. He was sedated enough not to be groaning, but Murray recognized those soft sounds of misery, so like his sighs of pleasure, yet unmistakably not. Still, his face brightened ever so slightly when Murray stepped around the curtain.

“What happened, Ted? Are you all right?”

“No, I ain’t all right,” he said impatiently, but not as much so as Murray was expecting. “I tore up my knee and now this _doctor_ ,” he spit the word out like a lie, “says I need surgery.”

“Well, maybe you do. How bad is the damage?”

“It’s fairly severe,” the doctor said, not at all offended. “Mr. Quinlan was explaining to me that he shattered that knee in the war—Vietnam, wasn’t it?—and it never healed exactly right. I’m surprised he’s been as active as he has been recently. The pain must have been terrible.”

Ted grunted noncommittally and Murray touched his arm lightly, almost but not quite brave enough to take his hand.

“Anyway, there’s clearly some new damage to the cartilage here, and I’m afraid he’s torn the ligaments that keep the knee together.”

“So surgery is really the only option,” Murray said, quick to see it clearly.

“It’s the one I’m recommending. The only other thing we could do is splint it up tight and let it heal itself. Unfortunately, the ER physician suggested that before calling me in, and now Mr. Quinlan is rather set on it.”

“Would that work?”

“Eventually. But it would never be right. And he would never be free of pain. I really think what he needs here is a partial, maybe even a total, knee replacement, and repairs to the ligaments.”

“But you’re a surgeon,” Ted mumbled, pinching Murray’s thigh to get his attention. “Surgeons always say you need surgery. Ain’t that right, Bozinsky? Like asking a mechanic if your car needs fixing.”

“It can be, I guess,” he said hesitantly. “But in this case, I think he's probably right. You've complained about it hurting a lot recently, and we've talked about you seeing an orthopedist. Maybe it would be best to go ahead and fix it now.”

“Can we have a minute, Doc?”

“Sure. I'll just go get a cup of coffee and check back with you in a half hour or so.”

Ted nodded and neither spoke until the doctor was gone. Then he pressed the button to raise the head of his bed, shifted uncomfortably, and slipped his hand into Murray’s.

“I don’t want surgery now,” he said quietly.

“No one _wants_ surgery, Ted.” He sat down very carefully on the edge of the bed and squeezed Ted’s hand in both of his.

“I’m not a coward, kid. But if I let them do this, the recovery’s going to take months. I’ll end up in a desk job, going to physical therapy every day—probably wind up falling in the tub and breaking my hip—I’ll end up a goddamn invalid.”

“But it will be fixed,” Murray said persuasively. “If you let it heal on its own, it’s going to hurt for the rest of your life, and it’ll probably always be weak. Do you want it coming apart unexpectedly when you’re getting out of the tub? Because if that happens, you could break your neck.”

“Yeah, I thought about that. But what else can I do? I—” He paused and swallowed hard, afraid even in his misery of looking weak. But Murray had been weak before him plenty of times, and remembering that under the pleading gaze of those earnest brown eyes gave him the strength to go on. “If I have the surgery, it’ll be a long time before I can take care of myself. Ever try to take a shower or cook a meal on crutches? I can manage for a couple days until this mess tightens up again, but he was saying six-seven weeks of therapy and a list of ‘don’ts’ as long as your wang. Maybe it’s the right thing to do, but I just ain’t got the time.”

Murray took the compliment and bit his lips to hold back a smile. He really didn’t know what argument to use, what words would get him his way when he had so rarely gotten it before, and then inspiration struck him like a blow. His eyes lit up and Ted winced, fearful of his lover’s optimism.

“This could be perfect,” Murray whispered, sliding closer. “You’re right, you wouldn’t be able to take care of yourself. Someone would need to move in and help out for a few weeks, and who would be the natural choice?”

“What?”

“Who would all of King Harbor _expect_ to see step up and help out? I’ll tell you. Your best friend, Murray Bozinsky, that’s who. The guy you’ve been hanging around with in a perfectly innocent and totally heterosexual way for years now. Who is also, by the way, living in a cramped space with two other people. It’s perfect, Ted. We can be together all the time without actually having to come out.”

“Maybe,” he said slowly. “Everyone’s gonna know what happened today—a big bust gets fucked up, that’s news—and there’ll be a big shift in the department when I start driving a desk.”

“Right, everyone will know you need help. No one will even blink when I volunteer. And I know there are people who already suspect we’re—together—but what can they say?”

“They can’t say anything,” he agreed. “You’re my only friend; everyone knows that. But when you’re still there in six months?”

“Why not?” Murray asked with a shrug. “I’ve been living with Nick and Cody for years. Men can be roommates, and I really need the extra space. I can set up my computers in your guest room, or even in the attic if you prefer. It’ll be good for both of us, Ted—the public _and_ the private versions.”

“You’d be willing to do that? Leave your friends and everything to take care of me?”

“Of course I would. I love you, Ted. Besides, how often have you dropped everything to take care of me?”

“I never gave up my home for you.”

“I’m not giving up anything. The guys will still be there, I’ll still work with them. I’ll just be sleeping with you every night and not sneaking out after.”

“You really want to make that commitment?”

“I already did,” he whispered, fingering the St. Michael medal that lay against Ted’s cheap hospital gown. “The promise is out there, just waiting to be fulfilled.”

“And what if it doesn’t work out? What if it turns out that we don’t get along as well living together?”

“That won’t happen,” Murray said confidently.

“It won’t?”

“We’ve lived together before. We got along great in the cabin, and that wasn’t exactly under the best circumstances.”

“It was only two weeks, too.”

“Then what about this? If it doesn’t work out, I can always go back to the _Riptide_ when you’re on your feet again, and we can just go back to the way things are now. I promise you, Ted, I won’t be hurt if you don’t want me around after six weeks.”

“The hell you won’t.”

“I won’t be if you don’t hurt me. We can at least agree not to fight, can’t we?”

“Yeah, we can do that. But I still ain’t looking forward to it. I don’t want to have surgery, Murray. I want to go home. Have some stir-fry and watch Clint Eastwood shoot up the bad guys.”

“We’ll do that in a few days, I promise. And I won’t have to leave in the morning.”

***

It was hours before Murray returned to the waiting room where his friends were dozing in the corner, leaning shoulder to shoulder, their heads pressed lightly together as they held each other up. He went to them and paused nervously, knowing they needed to go home, and yet hating to disturb them. After an eternity of indecisiveness, a door slammed somewhere and Nick leapt awake. Cody, off balance, fell toward him and nearly overturned his chair. Then they were both on their feet, sleepy and ashamed, asking what had happened.

Murray told them how Ted had been hurt and what the orthopedist said about repairing his knee. They were properly concerned and beginning to assure him that they’d help out any way they could when Murray said he had that solved.

“Really?” Nick asked, already feeling a sharp tug of fear.

“I’m going to go live with him when he gets out of the hospital. Now, I’m not leaving you guys. I’ll still be part of the agency and everything. I just won’t be around as much when he’s first home, and then, if that goes all right, I’ll just stay. We’ll tell people that I liked it there, having more room and everything.”

“You sure came to that conclusion pretty fast,” Cody said, trying to hide his dismay.

“I suppose. Let’s go home and I’ll tell you about it over supper. You both must be starving.”

“Yeah, but this is important,” Cody persisted as they walked toward the door. “I know you’re worried about him, but moving in is a big step.”

“Oh, I know that,” he said lightly. “But we’ve been talking about it for years. There was just no good reason, no socially acceptable cover. We were afraid we’d have to wait until he retired and move out of town, even though it would mean leaving you guys. This is terrible, he’s in agony now and it’s going to get worse before it gets better, but maybe this is the one good thing that could come of it. I know I’m springing this on you, but it’s not like I’ve never thought about it before.”

Nick and Cody exchanged a glance as they approached the Jimmy, each asking the other if they should argue with this or not, and neither having the answer.

“You really want to move out for good?” Nick asked, trying not to sound hurt and failing.

“It’s not that I want to leave you,” Murray said, suddenly plaintive. “I just want to be with him. I don’t want to miss any time we could have together. But we also agreed that if we get on each others’ nerves too much, I’ll move out before it hurts our relationship. Assuming you’ll keep my place for me.”

“Sure we will. You’ll always have a place with us, buddy. We won’t give away your room,” Cody said, giving him a hand as he climbed into the Jimmy.

“Ted’s having the surgery tomorrow, and then he’ll be here for another four or five days, getting antibiotics and starting his physical therapy. I guess I’ll move some of my stuff over there and get the place ready before he goes home. But not right away.”

“Sure, no reason to hurry.” Cody threw Nick a look that cried out fear and abandonment, and even a touch of betrayal. As if they’d expected Murray to stay forever. Nick smiled sadly and gave a little shake of his head. Cody got behind the wheel and they drove home in silence.

***

Back at the pier, a nervous Murray made a casserole while Nick and Cody sat at the galley table and tried to see it from his point of view. Cody thought about the life he was supposed to lead, at least according to his mother, and how he'd turned his back on it to live here with Nick. What Nick had given up, he would never know.

“Ever since our second trip to the cabin, I’ve wanted to be with him all the time. At first because he makes me feel safe, but now mostly just—just— _because_. I love him. He—being with him just—it makes me feel more complete. You guys couldn’t live apart, and more and more I feel like we can’t either. I’ve loved him for years and I want to take this next step.”

“No, you’re right, Boz. You don’t need to convince us,” Nick said, trying to sound convinced. “We all know that if it was a woman, you’d have gotten married and left a long time ago. But we’d have missed you then, too.”

“I know, and I’ll miss you, but I’ll still be over here all the time. We’ll still work cases together and everything. You’ll always be my best friends.” He put the casserole dish in the oven and started mixing a salad, keeping his back to them. After a moment, Nick got up and put an arm around him, gently coaxing him to leave the lettuce and sit down at the table.

“We understand, Murray. A man has to follow his heart. You don’t need to feel guilty, okay? Especially in a situation like this when he really needs you. He’s lucky to have a man who can reorganize his life as easily as you can.”

“I’ve always lived out of boxes, in the corners of other people’s lives. The weirdest thing for me right now is the idea of having a whole room of my own in an actual house. I haven’t had that since I left for college when I was twelve.”

“You’re not worried about him accepting you in his territory?” Cody asked carefully. “He won’t resist having you in charge in his house?”

“He might, I guess. If he does, then I won’t _be_ in charge. Ted isn’t the needy type, anyway. I doubt he’ll give up enough control to feel threatened.”

“Well, I believe you’ll work it out,” Nick said staunchly. “After everything you two have been through, living together should be easy.”

Murray nodded, struggling to smile. It was true, and he was happy at the idea of being with Ted full time, but he was going to miss this home terribly. It was the first real home he’d had since he was twelve, room of his own or not, and even though he knew he was doing right, his heart was aching.

The casserole was excellent, but supper that night was a somber affair.

***

Murray was at the hospital early in the morning so he could visit with Ted for a few minutes before the surgery. He promised to be there when it was over, and he was. The nurses wouldn’t let him into recovery because he wasn’t family, but he was allowed to wait in the room that would be Ted’s for the next five days. He sat in a not-too-uncomfortable chair and watched game shows on TV until his lover was returned to him, groggy and cranky with pain.

Two nurses lifted Ted into the bed and took his vitals one more time, arranged his IVs and asked if he needed anything. He said yes, for them to get lost, and they both sighed. One looked near tears and the other just gave Murray a smile that plainly said, _He’s all yours, buddy, and good luck._ If he wouldn’t make nice for two pretty young girls, they didn’t figure the nervous geek would last too long. Unless he was the old man’s son, in which case he’d just have to put up with it.

As soon as the door was closed, Murray went over to the bed and picked up his hand. Quinlan turned his head, squinted blearily at his lover for a few seconds, and then smiled.

“How’re you feeling, Ted? Does it hurt much?”

“My knee hardly hurts at all,” he muttered. “But that fucking anesthesia makes me feel like shit. I wanna go to sleep but I’m too busy wishing I was dead.”

“Is there anything I can do? Would you like a drink of water?”

“No. It’ll give me stomach cramps. You could rub my legs, though. My bones ache.”

“Your bones?” he asked, already laying Ted’s hand on his chest and moving toward the foot of the bed. He pulled the blanket off gently and paused to consider. It was Ted’s left knee that had been repaired and the entire joint was bandaged to six inches above and below. He wore compression stockings on both legs to help prevent blood clots, and Murray guessed he was receiving anti-coagulants through his IV. His right leg twitched weakly, like the limb of a stricken animal, something Murray had never seen him do before.

“Where does it hurt?” he asked.

“My bones,” Ted repeated. “I need you to squeeze my bones.”

Murray wasn’t sure what to make of that. It was undoubtedly drug-speak, but there was always a bit of truth to that. Then he realized that it was probably _all_ truth, stripped clean of whatever explanations might make it clear. Carefully, cautiously, he laid his right hand on Ted’s right shin and squeezed.

“Like that?”

“Harder. Rub hard,” he murmured sleepily, keeping his eyes closed. Murray let his hand slide down to Ted’s ankle, massaging firmly all the way, and was rewarded with a soft moan of pleasure. He placed his left hand just below Ted’s knee and worked the hard muscle firmly but gently, squeezing until he felt bone every time.

The quiet sounds of relief went on as he rubbed, and after nearly ten minutes the restless twitching ceased in Ted’s right leg, only to commence in his left, much slower and more weakly. Whatever the discomfort was that made him twitch (and surely, Murray thought to himself, it isn’t really his _bones_ that ache), it failed to dominate when it came up against the surgical pain in his knee.

He leaned over the bed carefully and laid his hands on Ted’s left shin. Here he moved more carefully, digging in with his fingers but keeping well below the bandage. Ted moaned and sighed, a little fearfully at first, as if worried that Murray might hurt him but still enjoying the sweet massage. Gradually, his soft sighs trailed down to nothing, and when Murray looked up again, he saw that Ted was asleep. He went on massaging for another minute, lightening his touch little by little so its sudden absence wouldn’t disturb his lover, whose sleep was light and troubled.

Very tenderly, he arranged the thin blankets over Ted’s legs and then sat down in the chair near his head. He turned the TV on with the volume down very low and flipped through the channels until he found some cartoons. The sound, though unintelligible, was familiar and soothing, and Ted soon settled into a deeper sleep. Murray stayed beside him all that day.

***

“I don’t know if this is harder than the last time or not,” Cody said as he packed Murray’s computer manuals in a cardboard box. Ted was going home in two days and they were taking care of the moving so that Murray could stay at the hospital with him as much as possible.

“It’s okay,” Nick told him for the tenth time. “He’s moving across town, not across the state, for one thing. And for another, we know he’s going to be okay. Ted will take care of him if he needs it. It’s nothing at all like when he was going off into the unknown with a bunch of strangers.”

“I guess,” he sighed, then shook his head and straightened up. “No, you’re right. If we could let him go with anyone, it’s Ted. And he’ll be happier, probably. Jeez, the guy’s almost forty and he’s never gotten to live with a lover. Being with you for so long, I forget what that’s like.”

“Yeah, I do, too. Also, we’ve both lived with girlfriends. Played the field, tested the waters. This might be Murray’s only real chance to have a home and a partner of his own.”

“Maybe,” Cody said, less sure of that part. He still believed that Murray could find someone else after Ted. And when he thought about the age difference between them, he was certain there would be an ‘after Ted’.

Nick, reading his mind as always, said, “While he’s young, at least. If Ted lasts another ten years, Murray can still settle down to spend his old age with someone.”

“Or with us.”

“Sure, or with us. But he needs something of his own, Cody. You know that’s best.”

“Yeah, I know. I just wish he hadn’t picked Quinlan.”

“Still?” Nick teased, making him laugh.

“Just because he’s so much older. Murray needs someone like himself, advanced intelligence in a young body. I don’t like the idea of him ending up alone. I mean, this last surgery, that could have been it.”

“It was knee surgery, Cody. They do it every day.”

“Sure, but things go wrong. Complications, infections—and the older you get, the higher the risks. People—they break down.”

Nick realized then that Cody wasn’t just talking about Murray and Ted. He was almost forty, too, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t want to get old, and he didn’t want to watch Nick get old, either.

“Cody, baby, you’re projecting again. We have years and years ahead of us, and so do they. Ted might be sixty, but he’s never looked or acted like it. And you can still pass for thirty any time you want.”

“Thanks,” he said, blushing faintly at having been caught out. “And I do like Ted, you know. Honestly, when I look back over the last few years, I’m not sure what would have happened to Murray without him. The little guy needed someone and he could have ended up in a terrible situation on his own. Picking up strangers, cruising the park—Ted might be older, but Murray’s the one who almost ended up dead.”

“More than once,” Nick agreed. “And I know I blamed Ted for four-fifteen,” he went on, using the term that Murray preferred, when it had to be spoken of at all, “but it wasn’t his fault. Not really. Anything could have had Murray out walking by himself, but not just anyone could have put him back together so completely.”

“Yeah, I know. I never would have believed anyone could go through that and still be—himself—after. Especially not a sweet, trusting guy like Murray. That had to be Ted’s doing, because it sure wasn’t us.”

“We helped some,” Nick protested, but not strenuously. He knew Cody was right. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to pack Murray’s things. They didn’t want him to go.

***

The on-call doctor was making the rounds the day Ted was released from the hospital. For a week, he’d been undergoing mild physical therapy, consisting of stretching exercises and walking between parallel bars, but the final instructions were for him to stay off his feet as much as possible. He was to use crutches around the house, do his exercises when the therapist came over, and forget about going to work for the next three weeks, at least.

Then he asked, “You’re not married, right?”

“Uh, no,” Quinlan said, ashamed to say so in front of Murray but more afraid not to.

“Well, I’ll give you the sex talk anyway. You’ve probably guessed you need to stay off your knees. I recommend waiting at least two weeks, give yourself a chance to finish the medication, and if you want to try it then, you’ll need to be on your back. Keep your leg elevated a little—a pillow under the knee would be fine—and make sure the woman doesn’t put any weight on it.”

At that, Ted couldn’t help glancing at Murray, who likewise couldn’t help blushing, and their hands joined unconsciously. The doctor blinked, his eyes darting from one to the other nervously, and he cleared his throat twice before speaking.

“All right, no girlfriend, then,” he said. “The same rules still apply. No—ah—kneeling, and no putting weight on your legs, straight or bent.” Then, hearing what he’d just said, the doctor cleared his throat again, blushing as dark as Murray.

“Sure, no problem. Gary said not to do anything that hurt more than bending it forty-five degrees. So can we just leave it at that?” Gary was his physical therapist and well regarded in the hospital.

“Yes. Yes, of course. And he’ll be visiting you at home starting tomorrow, right?”

“That’s what I hear. So, can we go?”

“Yes, of course,” he said again. “Just sign here and I’ll send the nurse to walk you out.”

Ted scrawled his name across several sheets on a clipboard and the doctor escaped as soon as he was done.

“I guess we freaked him out a little,” Murray said softly.

“I guess so. He might tell people, too.”

“He might. Are we ready for that?”

“We’ll have to be,” Ted shrugged. “I finally got you and I’m not letting go now.”

Murray kissed him tenderly, already wondering if the two week rule could be broken, provided he didn’t put any stress on that knee.

***

Cody picked them up in Ted’s car while Nick stayed behind to finish putting up the bookshelves in Murray’s new room. It was awkward and briefly painful getting his splinted left leg into the passenger side of the Cavalier, and with the front seat back all the way, Murray had no choice but to fold his own flexible knees to his chest to fit in the back seat. The window opposite him was rolled down to make room for Ted’s crutches, and the rest of his things were piled on the seat beside Murray. It should have been uncomfortable for everyone, but, like most people who are leaving the hospital without lingering exhaustion or nausea, Ted was just glad to be outside, and Murray was excited at the prospect of spending the night in his new home. He kept the idea of leaving his old home firmly out of his mind, and was glad that no one brought it up.

Cody parked as close to the front door as he could and helped Ted out of the car while Murray got his crutches. He’d had a little practice at the hospital and was pretty good at keeping his left foot off the ground, even if the clearance was less than an inch. The front steps were another matter entirely, and Cody got Nick from the house so they could walk him up the three low steps together. Murray wanted to help and keenly regretted not having the strong shoulders that his friends did. But when they reached the door, Ted looked back and his eyes found Murray’s, telling him silently that he was still the necessary one.

Ted made them stop just inside the door and wait until Murray brought his crutches. He wanted to be in control in his own home, and had just enough confidence to make his way over to the sofa and set himself down without falling. Murray helped him get his foot up on the coffee table and propped the crutches on his other side, so Ted could at least feel like he had the freedom to rise, even if he actually couldn’t. The sofa was a little too low, and Gary had told him to stay out of the recliner until he’d had a lot more time to heal.

There was a brief awkwardness, which Nick tried to ease by speaking.

“We, uh, set up your stuff in the guest room. Figured you could finish arranging things when you had time.”

“Wow, my own room,” Murray laughed.

“Well, not exactly. There wasn’t room for the furniture that was in there with all your computers and everything. We put the bed and the big dresser up in the attic. Figured you two would be doubling up anyway.”

Murray smiled softly, blushing a faint pink, and then suddenly looked concerned.

“Maybe that’s not such a good idea.”

“Why not?” Ted asked, sounding too harsh to avoid sounding scared.

“Well—just because, you know, I might kick you in my sleep or something.”

“Yeah, maybe, but where else are you gonna sleep?”

Murray thought about that, nibbling at his cuticles while his friends tried to cover their embarrassment at witnessing such an intimate scene. Then Murray’s face brightened, banishing their concerns.

“I’ll just have to use my old cot,” he said triumphantly. “If we put it beside the bed, I’ll be right there if you need me, but not close enough to bother you while you’re sleeping.”

“Are you sure? You’ve bothered me from farther away,” Quinlan said, teasing gruffly.

“I guess I still might, but at least it won’t hurt,” he replied, and was surprised when everyone laughed. The joke had gone over his head, but he didn’t think they were being cruel, and so laughed along hesitantly to keep them from explaining.

“We didn’t bring it,” Cody said after a moment, “but it’s no trouble. I’ll just run down to the pier and pick it up if you want.”

Murray gave Ted a questioning look and he nodded assent.

“Thanks, Cody. That’d be a big help. I’ll make some lunch and we can eat when you get back.”

“I can just pick something up while I’m out,” he offered, but that time Murray declined without checking with Ted. Murray was firmly in charge of Ted’s diet and no one argued it with him.

“Thanks, but it’ll just take a few minutes. Nick, you want to have a seat? You and Ted can entertain each other while I heat up some soup, right?”

“Sure,” Nick said, taking the recliner. “What’s on TV?”

“Way to entertain,” Cody sniggered, snatching the remote away from him and handing it to Ted. Nick barely managed not to stick his tongue out at his partner, and then Cody was gone. Murray disappeared into the kitchen to make soup and toasted cheese for four, and after a few minutes, Nick joined him.

“I thought you were entertaining Ted,” he half-questioned as he flipped sandwiches on the stove top.

“He fell asleep. Want me to do that?”

“Sure.” He handed over the spatula and moved across the room to get plates and glasses. Nick could have done that, but Murray knew where everything was, and his competence in this kitchen didn’t go unnoticed.

“You know,” Nick said quietly, “we’re sure gonna miss you on the _Riptide_ , but it’s not such a bad thing, you moving in here. You’ve been wanting to for a while, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Murray whispered, vaguely ashamed to be admitting it. “I’ve felt like I lived here for a couple years and it hurt not getting to stay. But I wanted to go home, too. It’s just—it’s hard to choose, you know?”

“No, I don’t. Not really. My life’s been different than yours. Cody’s my home—has been for a long time now. I never had to choose.”

“Well, I won’t say you’re lucky,” he said, rubbing hastily at his eyes with one hand and trying to sound upbeat. “It’s nice to have choices. I know that I’m blessed, really, to be welcome in so many different places. But it does hurt a little bit, sometimes.”

“I bet it does,” Nick agreed, turning off the burner. “Now give me those plates. These are gonna burn in a second.” He flipped the sandwiches onto the plates one at a time, handing each back to Murray to set on the counter again. Then he stirred the soup and lowered the flame under the pot, and there was nothing left to do. When he turned around, he saw Murray leaning back against the counter, his glasses magnifying the tears in his eyes, and suddenly felt like a monster for even bringing it up.

“Hey, buddy, it’s okay,” he said quietly, and that was all it took to start Murray sniffling in a way that threatened real trouble. Nick took two steps and hugged him hard, smiling to himself when Murray took off his glasses and pressed his face against the friendly shoulder. “It’s okay, Boz. We’re still gonna be working together and we’ll see each other all the time.” He didn’t say that Murray was always welcome to come back. He didn’t need to.

“I know,” Murray said, straightening up and wiping his eyes once more before putting his glasses back on. He drew a slow, shuddering breath and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I know that. It’s just been a really emotional week.”

“Sure, I know it has,” Nick said heartily, giving him a manly out. “But you’re fine now. You’re a tough guy, Murray. Don’t ever let anyone tell you any different.”

“Ted wouldn’t settle for less,” he agreed, only half joking. Then Cody was at the door, calling for Nick to come help him get the cot from the car.

***

That night Murray helped Ted undress and settled him comfortably in bed with a pillow under his leg and enough painkillers in his stomach to insure a sound sleep. He slid his cot up against the bed and changed into his pajamas while Ted watched him through bleary eyes. The late April nights were still cool and he wouldn’t have his lover’s prodigious body heat to warm him. Neither said anything, but both were thinking about the days to come when Murray could sleep in his bed again, without this space between them.

“I guess this is it,” Ted murmured as Murray climbed under the blankets of his little cot.

“What’s that?”

“You live here now. For real.”

“Well, yes, I suppose so,” he stammered, suddenly unsure. “Unless I get on your nerves too much. We agreed that you could throw me out when you’re on your feet again and I wouldn’t be hurt.”

“The hell you wouldn’t,” Ted laughed. Then he turned serious again. “You think after everything we been through that my frigging knee is gonna be the deal breaker?”

“Well, I’ve been hoping not.” He turned on his side and slid his hand under the covers on the big bed, tucking his slender fingers into Ted’s great, warm paw. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with me just because I did something nice for you.”

“You keep giving me outs,” Ted sighed. “Well, I don’t want ‘em. I never did. All I ever wanted, from the time you got shot, or maybe even before then, was you. For you to decide to settle down and stick with me.”

“I’ve done that, Lieutenant. I decided a long time ago that I was sticking with you, no matter what. Maybe you’ve doubted me, and maybe I gave you reason, but in my heart I always knew you were the one for me.”

Quinlan thought briefly about some of the people who had tried to come between them, people who had used and confused Murray for their own gain, and while that hurt, he knew that what mattered was how Murray always found his own way back.

“And now you’re here at last,” he said quietly. “Now you live here and you have a good reason, so you can tell anyone who says anything to fuck off.”

“Yep. Finally. My only regret is that we can’t celebrate it properly. I always kind of hoped that if this ever happened, we could drink champagne and make love all night.”

“You can have some of my morphine.”

“No, thanks. We’ll celebrate properly when you’re feeling better. Just don’t act like you feel _too_ much better,” he added. “Be sure to keep limping, and let me take out the trash and mow the lawn so I look useful.”

“I can do that. But you know what? I don’t really give a rat’s ass what the neighbors think anymore. And the Liebgotts? They already know. Mrs. Liebgott asks about you way too often for her to still think we’re just friends.”

“Oh, how sweet. I really like her. Those gingerbread men she made last Christmas were amazing, and she promised me her snickerdoodle recipe this year.”

“Yeah, so I figure everyone knows you’re gay,” Ted went on dryly. Murray chuckled softly at himself and Ted squeezed his hand. “So what I was getting at was—well—since you live here now and everything, maybe we ought to get married.”

“What? I mean, are you—are you serious? You’ve always said it was pointless and we—we’re already committed, and—and—really?”

“Yeah, really. Not here, but—when Steve and Julie visited me in the hospital they said the family, Julie’s family, was asking after us. We got to talking and she brought it up again—that we could have a ceremony at her folks’ place. If you want to. I mean, I know it doesn’t change anything…”

“Yes, it does. I didn’t think it would, but it does. It changes a lot. I love you, Ted Quinlan, and I’d be honored to marry you anywhere, anytime, in front of anyone.”

“Anyone?” he repeated, gently teasing.

“Well, Nick and Cody, and Julie’s family. And maybe my parents,” Murray amended. He rose up on his elbow and kissed his lover softly in the dark, signaling the end of one relationship and the beginning of another. Being friends was good, but they were family now.


End file.
